


Lantern Flickers In My Mind For Only You

by laurynmakay



Category: Anne with an E (TV)
Genre: F/M, during 3:09, gilbert figuring his shit out, gilbert's subconscious knows whats up, post-3:09
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-22
Updated: 2020-02-03
Packaged: 2021-02-17 22:16:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21517330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laurynmakay/pseuds/laurynmakay
Summary: Gilbert Blythe has his mind made up to propose to Winnie, except maybe he doesn't. When faced with the reality of his own feelings, the choice he has to make about his future becomes a lot more difficult.My humble contribution to the post 3:09 theories.(spoilers for season 3)
Relationships: Gilbert Blythe/Anne Shirley
Comments: 10
Kudos: 154





	1. Chapter 1

Gilbert Blythe could honestly say he had never been quite so anxious in his life. He kept trying to read the book he had brought, but every few sentences, his eyes would drift off the page and out the window. His mind continuously kept replaying images of hair glowing in firelight and a girls dress twirling as she danced around a classroom and Anne's eyes looking up at him right before he leaned in to kiss her. Until she mentioned Winnie and the moment was gone. Winnie. Right. Winifred was the one he was going to propose to. Winifred was the one he would marry. He was going to marry her and they would have a life together and he would be happy. He was getting everything he always wanted. _'Not everything’_ a voice echoed in the back of his mind.

He shook his head and closed the book he wasn't reading. He tucked it back in his pocket and pulled out the journal he always carried with the worn, black cover. Anne had given it to him for his birthday before last. She tried to claim that it was from all the girls, but he knew better. The journal was about half full of first drafts of articles and notes for class and other musings. It was the best way he knew of processing the inner workings of his mind. He knew if he wrote things down, he would always inevitably land on the answer. And that was how he was going to get through this proposal. He would write down his thoughts and feelings about Winifred and eventually his speech would write itself. He just needed to find a pen.

He dug through each of his pockets until he found one in his left breast pocket. Upon pulling it out, he recognized it as the one Anne had lent him when they were studying, when Anne insisted they weren't being romantic and the voice in the back of his mind kept saying _'Yes, yes I am. I am being romantic to you, why can't you see it’_. He turned the pen over and over in his hands trying not to feel the ache in his heart when he thought of Anne's hands holding this pen, which only led to him thinking of Anne's hands holding his. She had held his hand while they danced but he wanted more He wanted her to hold his hand while he walked her home and he wanted her to hold his hand while they studied and while they sat at dinner with her family and while they kissed and... Winnie! He was writing to _Winnie_. The only hand he would be holding is Winnie’s.

He uncapped the pen and placed the nib on the blank page willing the words to flow on their own. He wanted this proposal to be sweet and genuine. It was what she deserved. A loving proposal from a man who cared about her, he could do that. He started writing about the first time they had tea and about the fair and all the fun they had had together. He let the words emanate out from the pen on to the page. He wrote about how they were a good match and his hopes for the future. His eyes wandered off the page to the trees moving past his window but his hand kept writing. The deep green color of the trees reminded him of his mother's ring, reminded him of the dresses Anne wore that complimented her hair, reminded him of Anne, of Anne, of Anne, Anne, Anne...

Damnit. His pen fell off the edge of the page. He looked back down at the page and realized his hand had followed his heart, he had two full lines of Anne's name repeated over and over, blending together until they faded into a single squiggly line that went right off the paper and onto the wood of his armrest. Anne. What was he doing? Of course, he couldn't marry Winnie. Bash was right. It was Anne, it was always Anne. From the day he met her in the woods. From the minute he tugged on her braid and called her Carrots. From the second she smashed a slate over his head. It was Anne. He loved _Anne_.

He turned the page of his journal and started writing a whole new speech. A speech that gently and respectfully told Winnie all the reasons he couldn't marry her and that he was so sorry but he had to end their courtship. A small wave of guilt passed over him when this speech was much easier to write than the one he had just been attempting but it was followed by a wave of relief. This time the words did write themselves. He wrote multiple versions, picked his favorite, and practiced it in his head. He checked the time. With some mental mathematics, he came to the conclusion that he could sit down with Winnie, give her his speech, catch the evening train back to Avonlea, and he could possibly make it home before sundown, which would leave him time to freshen up and ride to Green Gables and see Anne. He would write that speech on the way home.

The train started to slow so he packed up his things and tucked them away. Just before the train stopped, he pulled the ring out of his pocket, kissed the stone, and muttered, "Only for love”, before standing up and making his way out into the city.


	2. Chapter 2

Gilbert only had to knock once before the grand door opened to reveal Winnie. When she smiled at him, what he meant to say was, "Hello, may I come in?”

But what came out of his mouth was, "I can't marry you.”

Stupid. Stupid. _Stupid_. God, Bash was right again, he was a moke.

"Excuse me?”

"Oh my God, I am so sorry! I planned about a hundred better ways to say that on the way here.” Winnie's eyebrows shot up. "No! Not a hundred. It's just... I mean... I'm sorry, I did have this whole thing planned and then my stupid mouth said something stupid and I... I...”

"Mr. Blythe, would you like to come in?”

"Um, yes?” he squeaked out. So much for gentle and respectful.

Winnifred led him through the foyer into the sitting room. She postured herself on the edge of a chair and motioned for him to sit in the one across from it. She then waved to a servant who carried in a tray of tea. _How could he have ever thought he would belong in this world?_ He didn't want a life full of uncomfortable furniture and people you have to pay to bring you tea. He wanted to make his tea himself before carrying it to the study where he would read, or watch Anne write, or listen to her tell her grandiose stories with a child on her lap. All of a sudden, he could envision a whole life with Anne. He could be a country doctor if it meant he could have her in his life forever.

His glazed-over expression must have given away his lost mind because he was snapped back to reality by Winifred saying, "So what's all this about you not marrying me?” He searched her face for any emotion, whether sadness or relief, but he came up empty-handed. He couldn't read her at all, not at all like how it seemed he and Anne could have entire conversations with the flex of one eyebrow. Though it was clearly not foolproof considering the conversation by the fire that still had him baffled.

"Uh, right, Winnie, I am so grateful for everything your father has offered me and I have truly enjoyed all our time together, but I'm afraid I have to end our courtship. I can't marry you.”

"Why not?” Once again, there was no discernible emotion in her face.

"It's just that, I've come to a realization. Or maybe I've always known, or maybe--”

"You're in love with Anne.”

"What?”

"I saw the pain in your eyes when you introduced her as your friend and then it was confirmed for me when you chased after her. For a moment I didn't expect you to even return. I could see you loved her and I could also see she loved you right back.” Gilbert thought he could now see the glint of a smile in her eyes, but he wasn't sure. "I was quite surprised when Father told me he spoke to you about a marriage, I was certain you had come to end things that night. When you didn't, I figured I must have been wrong, but I can see that same pain in you now. I see something else though too. I can see hope in you.”

"I’m so sorry Winnie.”

"I know. And really, it's alright. I am a bit disheartened we won't be marrying. We would have been a good match and we could have had a good life, but you deserve more, Gilbert. You deserve to go after the love you have.” She stood up.

"So do you, Winnie. You deserve love too.” He stood to face her.

"And maybe someday I’ll find it, but for now, goodbye Gilbert Blythe. Know you will always be welcome here whenever you find yourself in town. Maybe someday you can bring your Anne for a visit, I think her and I could be great friends.” She gave him a quick embrace, before turning away and striding down the hall to the foyer. He stumbled after her, still not quite processing everything that had just happened. He stood on her porch trying to make sense of her words and trying to convince himself he didn't see the tears in her eyes before she closed the door on him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's a short chapter but the next one is much longer
> 
> I would very much love to hear your thoughts, please comment and kudos and blah, blah, blah


	3. Chapter 3

_"I am in love with Gilbert Blythe!"_

_"Do not make the same mistake I did.”_

_"We didn't speak.”_

_"I guess love doesn't conquer all.”_

Anne stood on the clifftop for hours as the sun made its lazy passage toward the horizon. The horrors and devastation of the previous days playing and replaying in her mind. She thought he loved her. Wasn't that what he was trying to tell her that night by the fire? When she was intoxicated beyond belief and rambling off about pirates. God, if only she had been a bit more lucid, or had comprehended her feelings sooner, or had ridden faster. She didn't even know if he read her note.

_Dear Gilbert, I'm sorry I was confused before. I'm not anymore. I love you. Anne. PS. May I, please, have my pen back?_

She had to assume he had and just didn't care. Her love wasn't enough for him to give up his dream of the Sorbonne. Why would it be? It was what he had worked so hard for. And Winifred was lovely. She was wealthy and intelligent and unbelievably beautiful, with her perfect blonde curls. How could Anne ever compare? She was just a scrawny orphan with horrid red hair that never knew when to stop her tongue. She must have got it wrong, Gilbert could never have loved her.

Anne gave one last wistful look out at the oh-too-calm sea before turning to head home. Marilla would be worried sick, but something told her she would also be understanding. Marilla knew only too well the tumultuous agony you felt having the only man you could ever love leave you behind. She started the walk towards Green Gables in the dim light of the fading sun and somewhere in her mind, she chose to take the path past the Blythe house, not to see him, just to see if the lights are on, see if he's home. ’Not that it'll be his home for long’, she thought with a pang, ’He'll be leaving soon, for Paris. He'll be leaving me.’ Anne began to cry then, hot tears streaming down her face. She scrapped the idea, instead choosing to go straight home to Green Gables and hastened down the path, desperate to reach home, to have Marilla hold her while she wept and tell her it would be alright. She was looking down, tears blurring her vision, when she ran directly into someone. Someone who was looking at the pen in his hand instead of the road ahead of him.

”Anne.” It was Gilbert Blythe, looking torturously handsome in his nicest suit, yet slightly disheveled. The sun had finally descended so the intensity of his stare was illuminated solely by the soft, ochre moonlight. Anne quickly tried to wipe away her tears. ”I was just on my way home from Green Gables, I was looking for you. Marilla told me you were— Have you been crying? Anne, are you alright?”

”I most certainly am not, Blythe! You left. You read my note, and you just left to propose to Winifred anyway. Congratulations, by the way, on your engagement.” She went to push past him, but he caught her by the shoulders. She tried to wrench free but his grip held fast. Tears were still stinging her eyes. She was close enough to him to feel his heat, even close enough to smell him, she couldn't remember ever noticing it before in the few times she had found herself this close to him, but it felt so familiar, like it was something she experienced every night in her dreams.

”I’m not engaged.”

”You’re not? But you went to Charlottetown. To propose. To Winifred.” She couldn’t even begin to process what he was saying. Diana said he had spoken to her father about arrangements for when he moved to Paris, that he was leaving to propose to Winifred. Did she turn him down? Did her father retract his offer? Did he change his mind and choose not to propose? Why would he have changed his mind? Her head was spinning and she felt like she couldn't breathe.

”Yes, I did go to Charlottetown. But I didn't propose, I ended my courtship with— Wait, what note?”

”The note I left.” Her mind was moving so fast and yet somehow not thinking anything at all. She could hardly string more than a few words together, entirely unusual for her. ”You didn't read my note?”

”I didn't get a note. Anne, what note?” She hated how he said her name, like it tasted like honey on his tongue, like it was a prayer, like he loved her. She hated it because she loved it so much. It was all she wanted to hear for the rest of her desolate life.

”You don't know?” He didn't know. He didn't know she loved him. He hadn't chosen Winifred over her. He hadn't left her behind.

”Anne?” He brought one hand from where it was still resting on her shoulder and wiped the tears from under her eyes. It was such a tender gesture, she thought she might just perish on the spot. He let his hand remain there, resting against her cheek.

”I love you. I'm in love with you, Gilbert Blythe.” She watched his brows crinkle together, with confusion or maybe just that he was feeling so much and had no other way to convey just how much he was reveling in those incredible words. She gave the tiniest smile at the sight, he was always so expressive. She felt like she knew him so well she could read his thoughts in his face and read his emotions in his eyes. She wanted to reach up and smooth the creases on his forehead.

”Anne,” She sighed audibly when he said her name again. ”Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you tell me when I asked you to give me a reason to stay?” His voice was so soft, just scarcely above a whisper. He looked as though he might be the one on the verge of tears now. It was like she was within his reach for the first time. There were the eyes, those beautiful, wholly romantical eyes that made her fall in love in the first place, the eyes she had been seeing in her dreams for years but could never admit why.

”Gil, I was out of my mind inebriated on moonshine and I wasn't sure then and I didn't want to prevent you from having everything you wanted. And besides,” She thwacked him on the chest with the back of her hand. Although her words were fierce, she said them laughing. ”You didn't ask me anything! You just heavily implied that I was the only thing holding you back from all of your dreams. And I was too drunk to be able to read your mind to know exactly what you meant. You, Gilbert Blythe, are a humongous idiot.”

”I know,” he laughed, ”I would have to be a humongous idiot to think, even for a second, that I could be happy with anyone but you.” She continued to stare up at him blinking. ”I’m in love with you Anne. I have been for so long.” When he saw her lips begin to tremble he said, ”Please don't start crying again, it so hurts me to see you cry.”

She swallowed her tears. ”You gave up your chance for a perfect life, your dream, for me?”

”No, Anne, my perfect life is with you. I realized my dream is— wait, I have something for you. A couple of somethings actually. First, here's your pen back. I'm sorry I had it so long but it unquestionably served me well, it just might be the reason I'm here right now.”

She thwacked him again before taking the pen from him and sliding it in her pocket. ”Gilbert! I almost couldn't take my exam because of you. But I suppose if it was what brought you home, I think I can forgive.” Gilbert chuckled inwardly. He knew that by 'home' she meant 'back to Avonlea', but he realized right then that 'home' for him would always mean 'Anne'. After all, wasn't she what had really brought him back from across an ocean so long ago.

”And here,” He slipped some folded up pages of paper he had ripped out of his journal into her hand. ”is my love note for you.”

”Gil...” She unfolded them and started to read.

”I wrote down everything. Everything I should have told you months ago when I first realized I was hopelessly in love with you. On the train to Charlottetown, while attempting to write a proposal, I came to my senses and I knew that you were the only possible woman for me and I don't need Paris and the Sorbonne to be happy, all I need is you. We can have our own perfect life.”

While she read, he ran his calloused hands over her shoulders and arms and back. Her skin was cold from the hours spent outside. He stroked her hair and her face, fingers twisting in the long curls he always feels the urge to run his fingers through when he watches it flow in the wind. He wiped away her tears when they started to fall on the pages.

”You love me? You _really_ love me?”

”Yes, Anne. I love you.” He was going to say more, to express just how she was everything that mattered to him, but his words were stopped when she jumped up, wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him. It wasn't a perfect kiss, and it was by no means proper, but it was possibly the greatest thing Anne had every experienced, better than anything even she could dream up. She didn't know what she had assumed that kissing would be like before, but whatever she thought, it was a million times better. No words could capture the profound magic coursing through her veins when his warm lips met her own, the way his arms held her so close and made her never want to be out of them again, the way they were both breathing the same hot air, like they were breathing in and out each other's very souls. It was a kiss to stop time. A kiss to cease the rotation of the earth. A kiss that brought all of civilization crashing down around their feet. God wasn't a deity, he was the sensation of divine euphoria that befalls when you suddenly possess everything you never allowed yourself to believe you could. Gilbert couldn't help but lift her into his arms and spin her around, kissing her over and over.

He placed her feet back on the ground and broke them apart to catch the breath she had knocked out of him. He laughed at the face she pulled when he stopped kissing her, it closely resembled the one she gave him years ago when he called her Carrots, like it was the worst thing she had ever endured.

”Anne, wait, I have one more thing for you. Give me your bracelet.” She blinked up at him. ”Your charm bracelet, can you take it off?” She undid the clasp and slipped the silver chain into his palm. He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out his mother's ring. He held it up to her. Anne gasped aloud and took a full step back. He saw the panic flash in her wide eyes and said, ”This is not a proposal, we're too young for matrimony anyway, but this is a promise. Anne Shirley-Cuthbert, someday I am going to marry you, but until then, until you are unquestionably certain that you are ready, this is yours to hold onto.” He slid the chain through the ring and clasped it back around her wrist. ”So that you have a steadfast reminder of how much I love you and how you are already a part of my family.” He gave her one more lingering kiss. ”But the second you tell me you are ready to marry me, I'm picking you up and carrying you to the nearest church, got it?”

She laughed and nodded before taking his hand. ”Walk me home, Gilbert Blythe?”

”It would be my pleasure, Carrots.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This the last chapter of my story! Some of you may have noticed that I upped the chapter count from 3 to 4. That is because I have chosen to include an epilogue containing Gilbert's letter to Anne and possibly a conversation between Anne and Marilla. Please, please let me know your thoughts and feelings about my story and its conclusion, and about what you think should be included in my epilogue!


	4. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the letter that Gilbert wrote on the train while processing his feelings.

Dearest Anne:  
To begin, I must tell you that I am not engaged, but to tell you why, I must start at the beginning. I am not engaged because I am helplessly in love with you and have been since you hit me over the head with a slate. You may be confused by this due to my courtship with Winnie. I am terribly sorry to say that I only began courting her because I was hurt by you saying that you didn't need me, I was apt to prove to myself that I did not need you either. I, of course, was wrong. I realized this upon seeing you so hurt at the fair. At the time, I was sure it was over the cake debacle and then I was less sure. Even now, I am uncertain about your feelings for me, but I know I would be unable to go on in life if I knew there was a chance for us and I had done nothing to tell you how much you mean to me. 

Furthermore, the very last time I spoke to Mary, she imposed upon me that I must marry for love and only for love, and so I would be disappointing her if I married anyone but you. You, Anne, are my one and only. Though I was in denial for many years, Bash knew from the moment I first spoke of you. It was apparent that my heart has always belonged to you. 

My final decision to end my courtship came when I attempted to write a proposal (with your pen, love!) and all that ended up on the page was my affection to you. Now that I have explained the end of my connection with miss Rose, I can continue to tell you how I love you. 

The day that I first began to suspect my feelings was an entirely average day, I had come in from the orchard to fetch Bash and I some water and encountered you bouncing little Dellie around the kitchen. As I watched you from the doorway, I was struck by a vision of you one day bouncing your own red-haired daughter, and wanted to be there to see it. 

My love for you was confirmed to me on perhaps the happiest day I've ever lived. The day I speak of is the glorious day that I had the privilege of dancing with you in school. My soul exulted every time your hand touched mine, every time you smiled at me, or I heard your heavenly laughter, I knew then I wanted to spend my whole life devoted to making you laugh every day. I was planning on telling you too, right then, but you ran away. It was then that the seeds doubt about you ever returning my affections. But while I was torturing myself with my unrequited love, I also kept replaying the way that your small hand felt in mine. I watched your deft fingers in class for days afterward. 

My overwhelming feelings for you reached their zenith as I watched you fight for your beliefs as you organized the protest, I have always admired your spectacular tenacity. With the perfect opportunity to tell you my feelings that beautiful evening out on the porch, but I couldn't find the words (you have always been much more articulate than I) my next plan was to just kiss you and hope that you would understand. Before I was able, you mentioned Winnie and again my heart was crushed. My hopes were lifted again before the exams, when we were studying at Ms. Stacy's. For just a moment, things were back to normal for us, back to before all the tension, even if it was all in my mind. I was certain you would tell me you loved me back when I asked you if there was a future for us. 

I was entirely amazed watching you dance in the flames. It was as though you were a celestial deity sent down to weave your way into the depths of my soul and permanently root yourself into the echo of my dreams. You fire-haired goddess, I am, always have been and always will be, thoroughly yours. 

With love,  
Gilbert


End file.
